N E W YQR] DIVISION - O'Ryan's Roughnecks
N E W YQR] DIVISION - O'Ryan's Roughnecks
N E W YQR] DIVISION - O'Ryan's Roughnecks
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GAS ATTACK 7<br />
1 THE IDEAS OF ETHELBURT JELLYBACK, PRIVATE, |<br />
For thirty long days I i<br />
tended the incinerator, I, |<br />
Ethelburt Jellyback, the f<br />
scion of a great family. t........#..,.....#..........<br />
For thirty long days 1<br />
was the stoker of the fires, as punishment<br />
for what my captain regarded as misdeeds.<br />
For thirty long eons—quaint word, eons—<br />
I was forced to get up before reveille and<br />
don a fatigue uniform. I was forced to<br />
ply with wood that rectilinear structure of<br />
bricks which stands at the head of the company<br />
street. I was forced to keep its fires<br />
roaring, to burn the empty tin cans and then<br />
smash them—• there is nothing aristocratic<br />
about burning tin cans—, and to heat water<br />
for the wash tubs in which the men clean<br />
their mess tins after every meal. I lost<br />
appetite, weight, and dignity.<br />
I reached some philosophical<br />
conclusions.<br />
One of them was that the chief function of<br />
an incinerator is to belch forth enormous<br />
quantities of pungent smoke which always<br />
blows into your eyes, no matter where you<br />
stand. Also, that fatigue uniforms are loose<br />
fitting suits of blue material originally tailored<br />
for fat men. I am not fat.<br />
Ethelburt's Soul Reoels.<br />
My soul rebelled at wearing such crude<br />
garments. I was not accustomed to it at<br />
home; so why should I permit it here?<br />
Therefore, I telegraphed to my tailors in<br />
New York and instructed them to make me<br />
up a blue suit according to the measurements<br />
they have long had of me.<br />
"Make it of blue flannel," I wired,<br />
"with<br />
a neat stripe in it, cuffs for the trousers, a<br />
pinch-back coat, with long rolling lapels,<br />
and patch pockets."<br />
The prompt arrival of the suit revived my<br />
flagging spirits. I could now dress in a<br />
manner more befitting a Jellyback, despite<br />
the annoying nature of my erstwhile occupation.<br />
Donning the neatly-tailored suit, I<br />
stood at ease in front of the incinerator,<br />
feeling that through the gift of my unusual<br />
ideas I could rise superior to my surroundings.<br />
"What time does the dancing<br />
begin?"<br />
It was my captain speaking. He stood<br />
looking at me strangely.<br />
"Dancing?" I repeated. "I don't understand,<br />
sir."<br />
"I thought you had just stepped out of the<br />
country club. It must be my mistake, Jellyback.<br />
Where'd you get the clothes?"<br />
"I had them made, sir."<br />
"But they aren't regulation."<br />
XVII.<br />
He Tends the Incinerator and Gets<br />
Mugrums There, Too<br />
Ethelburt Gets Another Idea.<br />
I went back to my tent, depressed. I<br />
hated to put on those other—those other uncouth<br />
things which—well, I might as well<br />
say it once and for all—those things which<br />
are nothing more or less than overalls.<br />
There, the truth is out. And one can't look<br />
smart in overalls. 1 defy you to.<br />
I knew that some smart women from town<br />
were coming up to visit camp that afternoon.<br />
I feared they would see me tending<br />
the incinerator in that awful suit. The day<br />
before a party of ladies had almost come<br />
upon me before I discovered them, and in<br />
the party were several who knew me. I had<br />
been obliged to flee precipitatedly into the<br />
mess shack, where I hid until they passed.<br />
"Cheer up, Ethelburt," said the smudgyfaced<br />
private, Jim Mugrums, "the good die<br />
young."<br />
"That is probably why they were good.<br />
They never had to tend the incinerator."<br />
"Say, Ethelburt, can you lend me two bits<br />
'til Saturday?"<br />
I looked at Mugrums. This crude little<br />
fellow, whom I used as my orderly until he<br />
got me into so much trouble, was always<br />
trying to get money with which to play a<br />
ridiculous game called craps. As I saw the<br />
eagerness on Mugrum's countenance, an<br />
idea came to me.<br />
"I will not only give you two bits," I replied,<br />
"but I will give you two dollars if you<br />
will do something for me today. Hold yourself<br />
in readiness to relieve me at the incinf<br />
erator for a half hour this<br />
| afternoon. It may be for<br />
| only fifteen or twenty min-<br />
UteS. I Will let VOU knOW<br />
when the time comes. And<br />
the two dollars shall be yours at. once."<br />
The Ladies Arrive.<br />
That afternoon I saw the party of social<br />
leaders approaching. They were strolling<br />
down the regimental street on a tour of idle<br />
inspection. I raced to my tent, threw off<br />
my overalls, and sent Mugrums back to my<br />
post.<br />
Then I strolled leisurely back to the head<br />
of the street just as the ladies turned in<br />
and stopped, looking around.<br />
"There's Ethelburt!" they cried,<br />
swooping<br />
down on me with many pleasurable exclamations.<br />
I greeted them hospitably.<br />
"Fancy<br />
meeting you here, I said. "How<br />
quaint!"<br />
"Oh, Ethelburt, show us around your<br />
company street, won't you, dear boy? And<br />
tell me, why do they call it the company<br />
street."<br />
"With pleasure.<br />
They call it the company<br />
street, my dear Mrs. Willowy, because it is<br />
here we receive our company. First let me<br />
call your attention to one of the most weird<br />
monuments of the army. I refer not so<br />
much to the blue-clad fellow there—" pointing<br />
to Mugrums, who was putting wood on<br />
the fire—" as to the object on which he is<br />
bestowing his care. It is the incinerator.<br />
I believe it is listed on the quartermaster's<br />
books as "incinerator, smokey, one. '<br />
5<br />
Ethelburt's Lecture.<br />
"A fire must be kept going in it constantly,<br />
whether it is needed or not. Otherwise<br />
an inspector will come around, frown at it,<br />
and make a note in a book. The fluid which<br />
you see boiling and bubbling in the big pans<br />
on top, is not soup, as has been popularly<br />
supposed, but it is the relic of this morning's<br />
coffee being boiled to the point of evaporation.<br />
(Continued on page 40)<br />
"No, sir.<br />
They fit me."<br />
"I thought there was something wrong.<br />
Go back and put on the ones the supply sergeant<br />
gave you."<br />
'What time does the dancing begin?"